Paper Airplane
by Amber Loves Ocean
Summary: Kurt folds a paper airplane, scented with his favorite cologne – and lets it fly out of his window at Vogue. Blaine, walking down the street in New York just outside the tall building that houses Vogue, looks up just in time to see the paper airplane come gliding down the wind thermals and land in Blaine's hand.


**The Paper Airplane**

Kurt was sitting at his desk on the seventeenth floor of the skyscraper that housed Vogue Enterprises. He knew he was lucky that he'd landed the internship here when he started living in New York, and the luck followed him as he was finally accepted at NYADA. After graduating, Isabelle, hired him to be her office clerk.

Kurt was living in an amazing loft in Bushwick with his best friend, Rachel, and they had more space than anyone could ask for in the Big Apple where a tiny 6 floor walk-up could cost a king's ransom. As it was, he was just a short ride on the subway from school and his job. All in all, he had been on a run of luck that he still had trouble believing.

All except for one thing.

Kurt Hummel had never been lucky in love.

Oh, he went out with his group of friends frequently, and he had a good time – eating at nice restaurants, seeing Off-Broadway plays, going dancing until the wee hours of the morning. It was wonderful. But he'd never found _The One_.

It was true that Kurt had a hard time in high school when his inner gay began to show and he refused to stifle it. He was the one gay kid in his school that was out of the closet. He felt lonely, but managed to fill his days with extra activities like designing and making clothes that fit his own idea of fashion and joining the glee club and writing for the literary magazine. He kept busy, but not...ah, _busy_. No boyfriend, much less plural boyfriend **s**.

Kurt had been what some might call a late bloomer. In high school he wasn't the type of kid to watch porn or to masturbate on a daily basis. He wasn't a flirt, even when he met an occasional gay boy from another high school. He believed that a touch of the fingertips could be the most romantic thing in the world – or at least he did a good job of convincing himself of that. It was easier than facing his loneliness. He just stuffed those feeling down and ignored them to the best of his ability and moved on, ever vigilant of his desire to live and work in New York City. And here he was, living the dream.

Today had been a boring day. His boss, Isabelle, was on a business trip to Milan and he had thought about phoning her for a short gossip session on the models she was chaperoning, but she was in Italy and he figured she was sound asleep right now. At least he hoped she was. She had wanted to take Kurt along, but the budget wasn't large enough to allow office clerks to go to fashion shows when their job was to proofread copy for the magazine and look up things to go along with the articles for reference.

Kurt loved his job, but it was Isabelle that made it worth while, not the endless stacks of paperwork that crossed his desk each morning. Isabelle had made sure Kurt had a lot to occupy his mind and fingers while she was gone, but a lot of it was mind-numbing when he had nobody to chat with during the day.

He sat at his desk to eat lunch – which consisted of a vegan sandwich that Rachel had packed for him that morning. Oh, here was a cupcake! One bite told Kurt it was vegan and not exactly tasty – plus there was no frosting, not even Rachel's famous tofu and carob concoction – so he discarded the cardboard cupcake in favor of a nice bunch of grapes.

Peeling each grape, just to pass the time before he could leave at 4, Kurt tried to get his mind back into the swing of things. He had one article left to do the requisite proofreading and attach the pictures from the download on his computer to leave in the growing pile on Isabelle's desk waiting for her return. There, he was done with all the paperwork for the day.

As the minutes ticked by slowly, Kurt's hand were busy - even if his mind wasn't. He was folding a stray piece of paper from his desk, not really paying attention to what the paper was. He folded a crane. Kurt's high school glee club had folded good luck cranes for a sick member, so he could do this with his eyes closed. Then he took another sheet and folded a flower. With a smile on his face, Kurt took out his small spray bottle of his favorite cologne – RAIN by Marc Jacobs – and sprayed a bit on the flower. What he didn't notice was that some drops of the cologne fell on other parts of his desk, soaking into many pieces of paper. He had 45 minutes left in the day, no time to start a new project and he was all caught up with his assignments for the day, so he kept on folding paper. He made another flower and a boat and so on until finally, with a minute to go, he folded a paper airplane. Excited by the thought of finally getting out of this boring building, Kurt looked over at the open window and threw the paper airplane out to find it's way on the thermals to some unknown destination.

It was just as Kurt let go of the paper plane that he realized what was printed on that paper and his heart fell to his knees. He even tried to reach it to bring it back, but the plane was well on it's fateful way to the street, seventeen floors below, with no way of telling how long it would soar before succumbing to gravity.

Blaine Anderson was walking along a street in New York. This was unusual because Blaine typically was driven from place to place in his father's limo. He had once had fantasies of singing on Broadway, being a star. Fate had stepped in.

Blaine did finish his degree in theater arts and now spent his efforts during this time of year doing summer stock. He'd been given ever more prestigious roles in traveling revivals of old Broadway plays and he loved it – but breaking the doors down that kept him from actually being a Broadway star had so far been impossible. His first summer after school found him doing a small role in _Annie Get Your Gun_ , followed by a slightly better role the next summer in _Pippin_. It got better as he did _South Pacific_ and now this summer he was in rehearsals for _Cabaret_ – he had been cast for the leading male role: The Emcee.

In the times between summer stock and going to Broadway cattle calls, Blaine's father had stepped in to give his younger son a break. The paltry salary of a summer stock player did not pay for an apartment in New York and the groceries and utility payments to bolster that. Mr. Anderson, once a stockbroker and now the semi-retired owner of a stock brokerage company, hired Blaine as a runner and clerk for his company and bought him a modest apartment in Chelsea.

Blaine knew enough about the business to be able to do his job well and with flare and his relationship with his father had progressed since the falling out they'd had when he came out in junior high school. Those days of quiet misunderstanding and the building of thick walls between them had eventually evolved back into a very nice father-and-son relationship.

Perhaps because of a bad incident in school where Blaine and his almost-boyfriend had been attacked at a school dance, Blaine had not had a steady boyfriend since then. He had plenty of friends, but he had not moved on to having a real steady boyfriend. Blaine was ever the optimist and believed that one lucky day fate would provide him with the love of his life.

Today he had needed to take a message to another stock firm and he didn't want to bother the driver to go eight blocks, so he had decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather and walk to his destination. He left the package of papers with a secretary at the other firm and was walking back to his building when a breeze came up, blowing things all over the street.

Blaine happened to look up at just that moment – checking to see if rain was on it's way – and he saw something he hadn't seen in years: a paper airplane, soaring and gliding on the small breeze. He saw it go almost around a light pole, but stall for a brief minute – Blaine held his breath for a second! - and recover to whirl around the square near the park where Blaine was walking. He sat down on a bench to watch the drama play out and the plane stayed afloat on the thermals for an amazingly long time. Just as Blaine was chastising himself for wasting an afternoon when he had a lot of work to do, the plane took a crazy zig-zag in the air and began to glide straight for him.

Blaine held out his hands and the small paper plane landed right in his outstretched palm. Startled that it had happened just as his imagination had predicted, Blaine clenched down on the paper and he brought it to his chest to cradle as if it were a little bird. Before he could bring himself back to reality, Blaine had brought the plane to his face as if to give it a nuzzle against his cheek. He smelled a delicious odor, like spring and flowers and summer rain. It was bright and sensual and immediately addictive. Whatever was on the paper, it was the best scent Blaine had ever smelled and he wondered if he could find the owner of the plane so he could ask her what the scent was.

Looking for a clue, Blaine unfolded the plane and found it was not just a piece of scrap paper but a check for many thousands of dollars payable to Miss Isabelle Wright from Vogue, Inc. He looked at the back and the attached receipt and saw it had been signed – it was cashable by anyone with that signature on it. Why had this Isabelle thrown away such a large amount of money just to make a paper plane and let it go in New York?

Blaine thought about it for just a brief minute before he glanced at his watch and realized just how much time had gone by while he chased paper fantasies in a park. Blushing with embarrassment, he smoothed the check flat and folded it back into a plane, slid it into his inside blazer pocket and hurried along the street back to his little office in his father's building.

Kurt realized too late that he had actually made a paper airplane out of one of the checks he was supposed to deposit into Isabelle's account on his way home tonight. He knew he was in deep trouble. She had hastily signed a dozen or so checks before leaving for Milan and left them with her trusted employee and friend, Kurt, to deposit today. He picked up the short stack of checks to see which one was missing. His worst fears were met. Instead of the one for $120 rebate check from a purchase at Pottery Barn or the $50 check for her birthday from her grandmother, it was the expense check from Vogue. For over $700,000. And it was signed – so anyone who found it could cash it.

Kurt's chin was dragging on the ground and his heart was heavy as he left the building, knowing that his days of working in the fashion industry were numbered. He would lose his job and never get another. Word of mouth carried gossip all over New York in the fashion industry and as soon as anyone found out about Kurt's carelessness he would be gone. Worse than that, Isabelle had trusted him and he had done the unthinkable. Kurt thought briefly of throwing himself out of that office window where he'd launched the paper plane, then he thought of calling his dad and asking to move home.

There was a tiny, tiny spark of hope that never left him and right now that spark was fizzling into nothing very quickly.

Kurt hung his head and walked to his subway stop to take the long ride home. He would call Isabelle and confess to her what he had done. The twelve origami flowers he had left on her desk weren't going to make up for this grave mistake.

Kurt blindly followed the other riders into his car at the subway stop. The car was crowded, people smashed together like fish in a sardine can. Kurt hated this. He was never one to touch someone or allow them to touch him if it could be helped. He pushed himself into the smallest corner, but more people were crowding into the car.

If Kurt were paying any attention, which he wasn't, he would definitely have noticed the man that tried not to crowd him, but was being pushed closer and closer. The man was wearing a nice, expensive blazer and fashionable shirt and trousers. He had a bright bow-tie that matched his designer suit and his hair was tamed back with a deft hand. This man had a sweet smile and big amber-colored eyes that gazed briefly at Kurt, smiling at his good looks before looking away as he remembered his manners.

Blaine wanted to stare at the man he was pushed near, but that would just be rude, not to mention a bit creepy. He could appreciate a fine looking man and this one with his chiseled jaw and dreamy blue-green eyes was above average. If it wasn't an awkward situation, with Blaine being thrust too close to the man, he would have spoken – but saying hello to someone who was practically standing in your pocket was not proper etiquette. Not in New York at least. All Blaine could do was to distance himself from the situation by pretending he wasn't anywhere close to this man. Perhaps the car would empty out before one of them reached their stop and he could graciously make a joke about the stereotypical crowded subway car. He sighed and then took in a big breath.

There it was! _That_ scent!

Where had he smelled that before? It was so blatantly familiar, bringing back some sort of amazing memory. Blaine sniffed again, hoping nobody could see he was smelling around at the people near to him. He turned his head and stepped a tiny half-baby step towards the older woman standing in front of him. No, not from her. She was wearing Chanel No 5, a very overpowering and distinct odor reminiscent of his grandmother. Neither was it coming from the young girl who sat on a smiling boy's lap to his left. Blaine moved slowly, his mind on where that seductive odor was coming from. He had just about given up when the subway stopped and a lot of the riders in his car exited.

There, much more room to move and breathe although it was still rather crowded for a Friday afternoon. Blaine figured the owner of that marvelous cologne was gone. He sat down in the seat that was now open and the handsome man he'd been admiring sat beside him. There was a jerk and the passengers were shoved together for a brief moment as the subway train started up again. Kurt fell a bit to the side and righted himself, but in that small fraction of time as he sat up and the tiny breeze stirred the air of the car, Blaine got a new whiff of the enticing cologne.

He forgot his manners and leaned towards Kurt, sniffing the air with a smile on his face. Kurt noticed and gave a fake cough. It startled him that someone who was dressed so impeccably would do something so rude and out of character. He was formulating something to say when Blaine's eyes met his.

"I'm so sorry. You must think I'm uncouth, but I could smell your cologne and I wondered what it was," he said, a smile on his face.

Kurt was taken aback for a moment, but recovered and gave the stranger back a polite smile.

"Thank you. I'm wearing RAIN by Marc Jacobs. It's an older scent – from 2006 – but I have a few bottles that I was able to find. I doubt if you can find it any more, except maybe on ebay."

Blaine smiled. This man was gorgeous and smelled divine. He wanted to say more than the mumbled 'thank you' he'd managed to get out, but that was really all there was to say, wasn't it?

Kurt wished he'd let the conversation grow by saying less so the gorgeous man could ask more, but it was too late. Kurt's mind was still loaded down with the horror and shame of having to call Isabelle when he got home. He searched his thoughts for something to say to carry on the conversation. This man was strikingly beautiful.

"Ah...do you ride this car often? I don't think I've seen you before?" he tried, but the man seemed wrapped up in his own head and Kurt looked away with a blush. He was embarrassed and didn't want to try again.

Blaine moved a bit closer, sniffing again. When Kurt turned back around at the sound, it was Blaine's turn to be embarrassed. It was a long time since he'd made a social error on this scale.

"I'm sorry. That scent – it grows on you. I swear I've smelled it before. I suppose that is unlikely given that it is vintage, but just the same, I know I've smelled it before, and recently."

Kurt had no idea what to say to that so he kept his mouth closed.

Blaine closed his eyes, getting just a moment of rest. He was tired from the long day running messages and staying up late last night to go over the script for _Cabaret_ one more time before tomorrow's rehearsal.

Then it came to him. Where he'd come across that scent...

"Um...my name is Blaine. Blaine Anderson," he said to the other man, holding out his hand.

"Kurt Hummel," he returned, shaking Blaine's hand. It was warm and soft and Kurt swooned inside. He decided not to get his hopes up, but Blaine was a damn good looking man.

"Where do you work, Kurt?" Blaine asked, thinking he might just be connected with the paper plane.

"Ah, I don't usually get into personal details with someone I've just met, no offense," Kurt said, but kept the smile on his face.

"Oh, of course, none taken. I did have a reason for asking, if you will indulge me," he said.

Kurt's eyebrows went up and he gave Blaine a look.

"Do you work at Vogue?" he asked.

"Oh...you must work there, too. I don't remember seeing you in the building, but then I don't work with the models on a regular basis, please excuse me if we've met and I don't remember – though I should remember someone as handsome as you, Blaine," Kurt smiled.

"Oh, no – I don't work for Vogue. No, I was wondering if you know someone there named Isabelle Wright? Although it is a big company and I'm sure you don't know everyone in the building," Blaine smiled and Kurt was momentarily frozen. He shook himself inside and let his brain work.

"She's my boss," he blurted and then hung his head, remembering what he had to tell her when he got home.

"Was she in...a funny mood today?" Blaine asked, not answering Kurt's question on whether Blaine knew her.

"No, why do you ask? Surely if you know Isabelle you know she's in Milan for the show?" he said, assuming that Blaine was in fashion.

"Oh. Well that is confusing."

"What is?" Kurt asked, becoming very curious what this man had to do with Isabelle.

"Ah...just something I ran across at the park today. Don't worry, it's nothing. When is Miss Wright due back in town?" Blaine asked.

"Soon. Probably by Wednesday. The fashion show is over and she needs to do some follow-ups with a few of the designers to book photo shoots of their new styles. Can I leave a message for her?" Kurt asked.

"Ah...um...well, it is a delicate matter. You said she is your boss, were you doing something for her today?" he asked, trying to find out if perhaps Kurt knew something about the found check.

"Blaine, you are talking in riddles. Can't you just tell me what you're driving towards? I need to get off to get my connection to go home soon," Kurt gave him a serious eye.

"Well, I found something that I think belongs to Miss Wright today and I wish to return it to her," Blaine said, hoping this was the right thing to do.

"Oh, my god...did you happen to find a paper airplane?" Kurt practically gasped, looking closely at Blaine to hear the answer even before he said it. Blaine's face lit up and his smile was even brighter that Kurt had thought possible.

"Yes, I was imagining why someone would throw such a large amount of money away..." he started to say when he found a very excited man practically in his lap, hugging him like a long lost friend. Blaine enjoyed the closeness of having Kurt hug him and even put his own arms around a very excited Kurt. Finally Kurt calmed down enough to be embarrassed at what he was doing and Blaine laughed.

"I'm so sorry! I'm not normally as excitable as a golden retriever, but you have no idea – you may very well have saved my life, Mr. Anderson!" Kurt crowed, too happy to feel shame in jumping into a stranger's lap.

"You see, I was bored and began folding some of the scraps on my desk into origami figures – flowers and cranes and dogs...then I folded the airplane and threw it a split second before I let it go – and with the breeze – and I tried to grab it back-" Kurt stopped, knowing he was saying random phrases and wasn't making much sense. Blaine took the opportunity to take the much-folded paper from his pocket and hand it back to the excitable man beside him.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Kurt crowed, throwing his arms once more around the delighted man that was holding him.

"Kurt, I know we barely know each other, but how would you like to get off the subway? We're near mid-town and I know a quaint little coffee shop where we can get to know each other a bit better?" Blaine asked, hesitant to hope for too much, but Kurt sat back down and smiled.

"That sounds like a lovely thing to do – but we can get some cheesecake and champagne and it's all on me. I have a lot to celebrate today!"


End file.
